


A sort of leaping happiness

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Femslash February 2020 [11]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (That's the prompt), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Blush - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Painting, Post-Hope's Peak Academy, They're babies!!!, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Angie doesn’t like to be watched when she paints. Never has, ever since high school. Of course, back then she laughed and made excuses about God, how He needed privacy to paint through her, but nowadays she’s more honest. One time she confided that other people watching her paint gives her performance anxiety. She can’t do it. And besides, if she wants to paint someone, she doesn’t really need them to model for her. Angie’s memory is photographic.But she lets Himiko watch.---Himiko likes to watch Angie paint.
Relationships: Yonaga Angie/Yumeno Himiko
Series: Femslash February 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616182
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	A sort of leaping happiness

**Author's Note:**

> written for day eleven of femslash february!!! the prompt is "blush"

Himiko curls her arms around her knees, propping up her cheeks between them, and watches Angie’s paintbrush smear across the canvas.

Angie doesn’t like to be watched when she paints. Never has, ever since high school. Of course, back then she laughed and made excuses about God, how He needed privacy to paint through her, but nowadays she’s more honest. One time she confided that other people watching her paint gives her performance anxiety. She can’t do it. And besides, if she wants to paint someone, she doesn’t really need them to model for her. Angie’s memory is photographic.

But she lets Himiko watch. The first time Himiko ever saw her painting was an accident; Angie forgot to lock up her lab and Himiko came wandering in, her hands full of tea and her inquiry as to whether or not Angie was thirsty caught in her mouth. She walked in on the other girl in the midst of creating some kind of dark, scary-looking scenery and nearly dropped her tray. The look Angie shot her was unreadable, and a bit icy, but she smiled anyway and expressed that she wasn’t in much of a tea mood, so Himiko rushed out.

Times have changed since then, though. Himiko’s learned to knock, and over time, Angie gradually grew more comfortable in her presence. Right now, it seems like Angie is painting dusk; the dusty blue glow of the world right after the sun has set. Angie’s paintings are emotional. Even when she’s merely conveying a still picture, there’s always so much packed into them.

Himiko isn’t very good with words. Language. She finds that working hard to articulate her thoughts is a huge pain, so usually she keeps her mouth shut and hopes that her actions will do so for her. But if she had to describe the feeling of this piece… a fleeting brightness. The last bits of sunlight, of light, right before the darkness settles it. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of scenery. Dusk has always felt dreamlike to Himiko. Overshadowed by sunsets and overtaken by a starry night sky, it hardly feels like a  _ real  _ time of day.

But sometimes when she drives downtown for the day and turns on the radio to her favourite station, rolls the window down and drives fast down the highway, and the sun has set but the sky is still light blue, she feels a light, soaring sensation in her chest. A teary feeling, but a good one. A sort of leaping happiness.

Happiness has, to Himiko, always been accompanied by a little bit of sadness too, and that’s how she knows that it’s the best, realest kind.

She slides her laptop to the side, deciding to finish her chapter later. Himiko pops to her feet and pads across the room, draping her arms around Angie’s shoulders and resting her chin there, breathing in the smell of daisies, and tropical fruit from her shampoo. Angie doesn’t react to her presence other than to hum quietly, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile.

(It used to be that Angie was always smiling, 24/7. She never stopped, not even when she was angry, when she cried, when she felt hurt. The smile was there by default. It sprang up when other people entered a room and faded immediately as they left. But over time Himiko has seen a multitude of her other expressions. Sadness. Rage. Irritation. She’s seen Angie’s brow furrow and her lips draw into a pout; her expression smooth out in an annoyed blankness; the haunted emptiness in her eyes after a nightmare. Angie’s smiles are lovely, all of them are, but the real ones look the best, especially after Himiko’s been able to see what her face looks like without them.)

“You’re so good at that,” Himiko murmurs, kissing her shoulder.

“What, painting? I should hope so,” Angie chuckles back, drawing a cloud in bluish grey. “If Angie was the type to blush, she would be,” she adds regardless, her smile becoming slightly wry.

“I wish you were.” Himiko sighs. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one who lights up like a stoplight whenever you compliment me.”

“Ohh, I think there is little need for you to worry about that, love. I express embarrassment in other ways.”

“Yeah?” Himiko tilts her head to the side, raising her eyebrows. “Like what?”

Angie’s hand pauses momentarily, before she can paint anything else, and her sky-blue eyes flicker to meet Himiko’s mahogany ones, dancing with some amused emotion Himiko can’t quite pinpoint. “I think it would embarrass me quite a lot if I told you that.”

And, well, that’s fair, but if Himiko can’t make her blush, then she’s going to have to figure out this thing that Angie does to express her embarrassment, because this is getting out of hand. Himiko doesn’t really mind, though. She continues watching her girlfriend as she resumes painting, and releases a tiny little exhalation. Realest kind of happiness indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my least favourite prompt :( cliche
> 
> anyway
> 
> hands u an angie headcanon  
> hands u an angie headcanon  
> hands u an angie headcanon  
> hands u a
> 
> i love this ship. i am weak, WEAK i say for yonameno. they are BABIES 'nuff said. no i am not accepting constructive criticism these ladies have done nothing wrong in their lives
> 
> i'm so tired man ;-;


End file.
